Gondolin

Year: 415 of the 1st Age; Gondolin, House of the Heavenly Arch

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A small elfling sits in a wooden chair, a light blue tunic covering his small frame. His silver hair rests just above his shoulders. A thumb is stuck in his mouth and a fingernail is slowly being chewed to bits. His eyes are intent on looking at the tall, wooden front door of the residence. The large, grey eyes are sad and his back is slouched forward.

A barely legible page of a journal. The date seems to read "First Age, Year 450".

Naneth says that it is high time that I start writing in a book of my own, instead of spare pieces of parchment found around the home. Though the search for such articles of parchment has been a joy for quite a few years, I am glad to have a proper journal. It is one for my eyes, and my eyes only. 

Lindamar played songs about the bittersweet story of the famed seven-named city of Noldor called Gondolin at the pavilion of Celondim, from its rise to its fall.

The event was held on October 22nd, 2019.

An updated, collated collection of the Stars of the Wilderness Chronicle.

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O Gondolin, awaiting

Beneath night’s endless starry cloak

Thy marble lanes in reverent calm

bejeweled by beads and gems that

Glitter in the silver lantern light

Thy graceful trees in outstretched joy

Greet thee, unfurling perfect tiny leaves

Their gift, their art, to welcome the day

Behold! Night's ink-black sky transformed

before thee, O Hidden city! Thou art veiled

Some hundred years ago, Forlindon

“Come!” Seronaer cried in Sindarin, urging on the Eldar as they hurried past, “Quickly along the passage!”

The fleeing civilians ran passed her along the mountain pass, clutching what few belongings they could. The young children were crying, as were many of the parents. To their rear, the great roars of dragons and mocking cries of orcs and balrogs filled the air.

In Beleriand there stood a Hidden City fair,
of which the shadows were long unaware.
Twelve houses stood tall when their ruin did came,
yet they could not avail against wrath and flame.
Of those houses lost do the minstrels sadly play,
though one remnant rose again for those who stray.